Love Looks Not With the Eyes
by sarapals with past50
Summary: A short story around Valentine's Day. Grissom and Sara and GSR. Rain, Red Rocks, desert flowers, and a bit of sweet romance.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Have a happy day! This is a short one, 2-3 chapters!**_

**Love Looks Not with the Eyes**

Chapter 1

_Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind_…_Shakespeare_

It was silly. She knew its history came from some Roman holiday celebrating spring, fertility, and match-making—if one could call being auctioned off and tied to a man for the night match-making. All while everyone was nude. Of course, that was before the Christians changed it to honor some guy named Valentine. Then Shakespeare got into writing about the day—and the rest is history.

Sara Sidle gave a soft laugh as she pressed the heart-shaped cookie cutter into the sandwich. A sandwich made of soft white bread, special mustard, provolone cheese, and roast beef sliced as thin as paper. She'd made two with roast beef because it was a special day for a picnic and even as a vegetarian, she did not mind the man she loved eating meat. Quickly, she made two more sandwiches without roast beef and cut each one with the cookie cutter.

Opening the picnic basket she had purchased for the occasion, she placed containers of potato salad, carrots, cucumbers, and oranges on the bottom. Bottles of water and a small bottle of wine fit into holders. She stacked the sandwiches and then added her last items—a small chocolate cake and two fruit pies wrapped in a flaky crust.

She checked the basket again and cleaned the kitchen, hiding the cookie cutter in the back of a drawer, and tucked a folded blanket into the top of the basket.

She had closed the lid when the door to the apartment opened and Gil Grissom stepped inside. In two strides she was in front of him and his arms were wrapped tightly around her. He always did that, she thought. He had almost lost her, he said, to a mad man who had tried to kill her while he stood helpless at the locked door.

That event had proved to be a turning point. They were together almost every day either his place or hers; both were taking more days off. She had moved to a larger apartment, one with an actual bedroom, but she was still resisting his pleas to move in with him.

Smiling as he kissed her, she knew her resistance was weakening.

"Any news?" She asked.

He knew she meant news of the case involving Heather Kessler but answered with, "Warrick and Nick worked a dead body in one of those big parking structures. Catherine was following up on one of the cases from last week." Shrugging, he said, "I did paperwork all night." He pulled a colorful brochure from his pocket, adding, "I got this from the realtor."

A soft punch to his shoulder made him smile. He is relaxed, she thought, smiling, even laughing more when they were together.

He nodded toward the picnic basket, saying, "You were not kidding! We're going on a picnic—Lake Mead? Red Rocks?"

"Let's go where there will be fewer people—Red Rocks."

Picking up the basket, Grissom hefted it and grunted. "This weighs fifty pounds—is it all for you and me?"

They went in her car taking a familiar route through growing suburbs to the edge of government land. As Sara drove, rain drops hit the window and the sky became darker.

Grissom said, "It won't last long—already we've had more rain than usual for this time of year. And with a mild winter, we may get a desert bloom."

Sara nodded and smiled. She had called ahead.

The raindrops were enormous and within minutes, the quantity of water was incredible, overflowing street gutters, and turning flat streets into shallow lakes. Sara slowed with traffic until the rain stopped as suddenly as it started. Within a few miles, the dry desert returned with no evidence of rain.

Once out of the city, the drive to Red Rocks was easy; the ranger waved them through the gate when Sara held up the pass, and they followed the paved loop for sightseeing. They passed the pull-offs frequented by tourists and turned into one with only one other car and a trail that disappeared in the rugged terrain.

Sara was relieved; she wanted this to be a surprise without a throng of people around.

"Am I supposed to haul this basket to a table?"

She laughed at Grissom's grumble, knowing he was teasing her. They had been on the trail a dozen times; he knew there were no tables. He'd also hauled his bug equipment in and out of this trail and never complained.

Laughing, she said, "I'll take it if you think you can't handle it!"

He shot her a look of mischievous intentions and pulled the basket from the back seat. The trail was a winding path around several boulders and, after half a mile with a sharp twist, emerged in a broad field which was usually a scrubby, cactus desert.

Sara stopped, waiting for Grissom, who was looking at birds in the sky, to notice. A moment later, when his eyes turned to the field, he sat the picnic basket on the ground, speechless as he looked around.

The desert was carpeted with flowers; purple lupines, white lilies, and a dozen different yellow wildflowers covered the ground, pushing through cracks in rocks, sprouting in soil that lay fallow most of the year.

"It's the rain," he whispered. Pulling Sara into a hug, he kissed her. It started as a soft peck on her cheek but turned into a long-loving embrace. In the slow, gentle, half-open kiss he gave her, in the protective way he held her, Sara knew she was loved.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: _The second chapter! Enjoy!_**

**Love Looks Not**

**Chapter 2 **

The sun was high and shade almost non-existent except that provided by a few scattered boulders. The landscape was sculpted of layers of sandstone rising high above the flower-covered basin. Sara found a sliver of shade while Grissom explored the field. She'd laughed as he mentioned bees and headed into the flowers, lunch forgotten for the moment.

He returned with a flushed face, removing his jacket as he sat on the blanket and accepted the bottle of water she offered. He said, "Bees are everywhere—amazing how they can find flowers from miles away." He took the sandwich and kept talking. "One day, someone is going to come up with a specific method to study where bees travel—they pick up everything in the air." He took a bite of his sandwich and with a surprised look, held it up.

Smiling, he said, "Well, look at this—it's heart shaped—and it's roast beef!" He held it in his hand, slowly turning it; his smile broadened to a wide good-humored grin. "A heart-shaped sandwich—who would have thought of this? Not the woman who insists she is 'not into' flowers and candy and celebrating some guy getting his head chopped off!"

Sara smirked, saying, "Gilbert…Eat." She spooned potato salad onto a small plate and handed him a fork.

After he took another bite of the sandwich, taking his time as he chewed slowly with a smile of amusement on his face, he said, "I think it's cute. And—I consider the roast beef a gift."

"I thought we could celebrate," said Sara. She pulled out the bottle of wine and filled two glasses, saying, "Happy Valentine's Day—with cheap wine."

"I should have brought chocolate." Grissom brushed his hands of crumbs and took the tumbler and sipped the wine. "Perfect with roast beef." He grinned and winked. "Happy Valentine's day, dear!"

When they finished their sandwiches and potato salad, Sara reached for fruit; Grissom picked up his jacket and ran his hands over it, as if he'd lost something. Finally, he unzipped a pocket and pulled out a small box.

"Happy day to us, dear."

Startled by his outstretched hand holding what was obviously a jewelry box, Sara, who had been busy peeling an orange, shook her head, saying, "We said no gifts."

"We said no candy, no flowers, no chocolate." Grissom's head nodded toward the field of flowers; his eyebrow lifted slightly. "You brought me to flowers—and bees." He kept his hand open. "Open it. I think you'll like it."

"I didn't buy you a gift."

Lifting his hand, indicating for her to take the small box, he said, "You made me a roast beef sandwich—in the shape of a heart. Two sandwiches." His mouth quirked in a lopsided grin. "That's a first—no one ever made me a heart-shaped sandwich."

When Sara hesitated, he added, "I'm going to open if it you don't—and I know what to do with it."

She knew it was a jewelry box; one of those slim rectangle expensive boxes that came with a bracelet or necklace inside. Tentatively, slow and careful, she took the box between her fingers, sliding her thumb along the edge. She wanted to shake it but decided that would be ill-mannered. Carefully, she flipped open the top, exposing white velvet quilted with silver threads. The sun glinted off the delicate links in the chain; small ovals hung like golden raindrops and gleamed in the bright afternoon sunlight.

For a long moment, she stared at the necklace.

Grissom ended up removing the necklace from its cradle and fastened it around Sara's neck. As her fingers kept touching it, softly, she said, "This—this is too much, Gil."

His hands were underneath her hair, wrapped gently around her neck. He said, "You should have one to wear every day" and kissed her lightly on her lips. With a chuckle, he added, "I know you like necklaces—and I plan to buy you enough to wear a different one for a week—or a month." Smiling, he kissed her again before adding, "You've turned my life inside out—right-side up—given me a reason to leave work, to sleep in on Saturdays—and do this."

Bringing his warm hands to her face, his thumb raked across her lips before he kissed her a third time and with this one, he possessed her with hungry, soul-stealing kisses. She responded until the world beyond vanished from awareness. There was only this place, this patch of Eden, sunny and quiet, blazing with unearthly color. The mixed scents of spring flowers, warm skin, caressing hands surrounded them.

Twined together, hands moving in deft tugs at clothing, rapidly developing into more…and then they heard an unexpected sound, a low rumble.

The sound echoed in the distance, reverberating on the surrounding mountains but they quickly broke apart.

"Thunder?" Sara asked, looking at the sky.

Grissom looked up, a few lazy clouds drifting overhead. "The clouds are moving—fast." He stood up and walked a few paces into a patch of wildflowers, swishing his hand over the blooming flowers. A moment later, he returned.

"We need to go—rain is coming," he said as he picked up the blanket. "The bees have vanished."

Sara grinned as she packed the picnic hamper, asking, "Can bees predict weather?"

With a chuckle, Grissom picked up the basket and wrapped the blanket under the handles. "Yes, they do. Especially heavy downpours—and while we were eating, they left!"

He and Sara looked around the area where they'd had the picnic, seeing nothing but flattened growth where they had sat on the blanket. Saying, "This field will flood—so let's make a fast get-away," Grissom held out his hand and took Sara's, pulling her into an embrace with a quick kiss.

Another rumble of thunder echoed, miles away, but there was a white glow on the edge of the mountains; lightning out of sight but moving in their direction.

Well rested, the two made good time, hearing the storm moving closer and smelling the dampness of incoming rain. As they reached the parking lot, the first fat rain drops pocked the pavement with loud splashes; the thunder rumbled closer.

Before Sara could unlock doors of the car, the lightning and thunder were on top of them; rain became harder. They were wet across their shoulders as they jumped into the front seats and slammed doors closed. Lightning split the sky around them.

Grissom said, "These storms can create a flood in minutes!"

For several minutes, they sat in silence, watching the storm as rain came in sheets of water. Lightning forked across the sky, occasionally sending a flash to the ground.

"Do bees really know when it's going to rain?"

Grissom chuckled, saying, "It is true—more accurate than the weather channel according to some. They can fly in rain, but will try to return to the hive before heavy rain—or huddle against trees or under vegetation."

"Amazing." Sara reached for Grissom's hand, asking, "When did you get interested in bugs?"

Lacing his fingers with hers, he said, "I've always liked bugs—I must have been four or five years old when my dad would remove insects from his plants. I'd save them in a jar or box and watch them for days. He—he always had a vegetable garden and he'd grow extra tomatoes for the insects. That's how I learned about the manduca quinquemaculata—the tomato hornworm turns into a beautiful moth."

Sara giggled. She said, "You haven't changed much from that excited four year old."

He grinned, saying, "Yeah, my mom was never a big fan of my bugs—sort of like you—she tolerated my enthusiasm."

For a few minutes, they watched as rain pounded the windows and the lightning and thunder moved east.

"You know, if we got a new condo, we could get one with garage parking—then we'd stay dry when it rained. We'll get soaked running to your apartment."

Sara laughed. "Does that mean you want an invitation to visit me?" Her fingers touched the necklace at her throat. "I think that's a good idea." She pressed the start button on her car. "I can think of several ways to make our day better."

"Yeah?" Grissom grinned as she put the car in gear and stepped on the gas pedal; causing a wake of waves as she left the parking lot.

A/N:_ Thank you for reading! We appreciate hearing from you...one more chapter to this story!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Final chapter to this one! Thanks to everyone who read this short story! **_

**Love Looks Not...**

**Chapter 3 **

Rain poured during their drive back to Vegas; traffic slowed to a crawl as water pooled on streets, as over-flowing gutters were unable to drain all the rain. Several times lightning cracked like a whip across the sky followed by a boom of thunder that sounded like distant cannon fire. By the time they reached Sara's apartment building, the lightning and thunder had move away but rain pelted in a downpour.

"I'm going in," Sara said with a laugh as she opened the car door. As she ran in the rain, she heard Grissom slam the other door. She sprinted, he jogged.

Laughing, she opened the door to her apartment. They were not quite drowned rats, but certainly resembled a couple of wet dogs. Grissom, hatless, stopped at the doorway and actually shook himself sending water droplets from his hair and clothes around the landing.

Sara ran into the bathroom for towels returning quickly and found him removing wet shoes. As she wrapped a towel around his shoulders, he said, "It occurred to me halfway to the door that my condo parking is much nearer the door." Using the towel to dry his hair, he turned to face Sara.

Her hair was wet and curling, forming a dark nimbus around her pale face; her eyes were pools of sensual intrigue and her smile was one that never failed to make everything inside him clench with excitement.

He pulled her into his arms. When her mouth met his, a fire leaped between them. He experienced the same sensation that always came over him when he held her like this. She had been meant for him, he thought. He did not have to restrain himself with her; he did not have to tread warily with her. As always, the wave of heat was instantaneous, washing over him, stirring desire.

She was different from any woman he had ever known. He could take the risk of allowing her to get close to that part of him that he had spent a lifetime concealing and controlling. When he lifted his mouth from hers, she murmured, "I think we need the bed."

He groaned, took her mouth again with more urgency, sweeping a hand down her side and pulled her hips hard against his.

In a clothes-dropping sequence, laughing as they held each other and fumbled with wet shirts and pants, they made it to her bed, quickly disheveled as they rolled in a passionate embrace. In a tangle of legs and arms, deep kisses and caressing hands, he settled himself between her warm thighs, caught her wandering hands and gently anchored them on either side of her head. An aching urgency pounded through him as he kissed her throat. He was as hard as he had ever remembered.

He whispered, "Sometimes I want you so much it's a miracle I don't go up in flames."

"You know I feel the same way." They eyes held for a long moment.

He released one of her wrists and drew his palm along her shoulder, around her breast; his thumb stroked her nipple before moving across her stomach to her hip, and finally to her inner thigh. When he reached his goal, he found her warm and damp. The scent of her body acted like a drug to his senses. With one finger, he gently touched her causing a gasp and a sinuously movement beneath him.

Impatiently, Sara tried to free her wrist from his grasp but he murmured against her breast, "Not yet. Tell me how you want me to touch you."

"You are touching me precisely how I want you to touch me." She caught her breath as his fingertips moved a little higher, one pressing firmly against her feminine core.

She moaned and raised her hips.

"What about this?" He slid a finger inside her, pressing the moist snug passage as tiny muscles clenched. "Better?"

He felt her clinch around his finger. Sounding breathless, she said, "You know what I want."

Taking one nipple into his mouth while simultaneously easing his finger inside her in a slow sweeping motion, Sara twisted beneath him, struggling to free her hand.

"Not yet," he mumbled, his tongue tasting her hard nipple. "I want to feel you with my hand."

"Gil!"

He probed deeper, stroking until she cried out. Releasing her hand, he continued with his finger until she grabbed him, placing his erect penis into her vagina as her legs wrapped over his hips. He thrust into her as she convulsed around him with another soft cry, pulling him inside her with throbbing passion. Her pulses triggered his own climax, swept through him like an invisible storm. Together, they fell into that passionate whirlpool, leaving both limp and still.

A long time later, Grissom roused himself from the sweet, heavy lethargy that came in the wake of passion. The scent of their lovemaking hung in the air, ripe and potent. He would always associate it with her.

Sara lay languidly on top of him, her head pillowed against his shoulder, her bare leg over his thigh, her warm knee snuggled against his groin.

Stroking the length of her spine with his fingers, all the way to the soft curve of her butt, he asked softly, "Asleep?"

"No," she mumbled.

"I love you," he whispered. "Whatever happens, do not forget that."

She stirred, lifted her head, and kissed him. "I love you too—whatever else happens—even when I can't show it."

Taking her head between his hands, he kissed her, feeling heat returning. They had spoken similar words after making love; it had become a ritual, a private vow. He said "I should go—give you time to rest."

She smiled with eyes that darkened into blackness, moving her hand deliberately down below his stomach and threading fingers into the nest of curly hair.

"Do you really want to spend what's left of the day sleeping?"

Chuckling, he turned to her, saying, "I'm off tonight, dear. You are the one who has to go in—you need some sleep." Reluctantly, he got out of bed.

"Gil."

He turned to look at her, lying on her back, one pale breast exposed, with dark eyes that offered passion he had not dreamed possible. Glancing at the window, the sun had returned, drying away evidence of the earlier downpour. Several hours before she was scheduled to work, he thought. The heat in his abdomen grew; his desire obvious.

"You know it is becoming—harder," his knee was on the bed. "Harder to leave you."

She giggled as she pulled him back into the bed.

…Hours later, Sara pulled into the lab parking deck. As she got out of her car, Greg Sanders waved both arms in the air as he walked toward her.

"Hey, Sara! Missed you last night! You look like you had a good day—ready to work tonight?"

"I did enjoy my night away from all of this—even enjoyed the rain today." She closed her car door and waited for him.

Greg performed a bouncing leap, laughing as he joined her, saying, "Maybe it will be a quiet night—we could use one." Abstractedly, his eyes glanced into her car. As Sara turned away from him, he did a double-take, a longer look.

Quickly, he looked at Sara as she walked toward the lab. For weeks, she'd had a smile on her face, a spring to her walk, a subtle difference in appearance—and now, Grissom's straw hat lay on the back seat of her car.

He hurried to catch up. "So, Sara, did you enjoy Valentine's Day?"

She said, "Flowers and candy celebrating some guy who had his head chopped off—really, Greg." Half turning to face him, pulling a face, she laughed.

That's when Greg saw the necklace, sparkling as it reflected overhead lights, almost hidden by her jacket. A new necklace, Grissom's hat in her car; Sara was happy, content, glowing.

As he flung an arm over her shoulder, patted her arm, he said, "So you had a good day off—that's good, real good."

Sara's chin tilted up slightly; her smile spread across her face. "I did, Greg. I did."

_**A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading, a special appreciation to those who review and comment! As always, keep reading, keep reviewing, keep GSR alive!**_


End file.
